the sudden quiet

And then the bombs came in black sounds the size of wombats. Mernda's chop stick legs buckling, moving around the plates and bowls, a stray utensil translucent in its nonchalance as she moved to their boom bass groove.

The girl up high moved light, like the dust snowing from the lit up sky in sheets of electricity slicing through her memories. Flakes of sharp silence fell between them, settling quickly across the table and under her feet that kept tapping around the bread, soup and legumes as the moments shifted into the future. This time they knew it was different. It was a sudden quiet - whispering.

The left wall of the apartment had completely dissolved to leave the best friends framed in the bleeding ink sky. A work of art perhaps - like something you would see in a gallery. (A Dali, Breton or Man Ray.) The trees outside their once was window were hunching around the gaps of the building and over their roots dressed in white plaster booties. They had both just turned fifteen. Mernda's first short skirt over her long lean thighs rose as her sequined shoes took control. Stani clapped her hands, the silk from her own shirt floating over her skin in waves of beauty as she caught her friend's eye. Thirteen years they had known each other. Sisters.